Disclaimer – I solemnly swear that JKR owns everything Harry Potter. Whether or not I am up to no good with her characters is for you to decide.
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Harry Potter: Dragon Whisperer
Chapter 5 – The Council Speaks
10:15am
Friday, 28 July 1995
Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania
.
The sound of jaws snapping behind him had Harry twisting about. The fact that the dragon that his gaze pierced instantly froze in place, one front leg raised and her mouth wide told him that she knew exactly what she was doing.
§Speketh§, Harry said warningly.
§But Speaker§, the fledgling replied, §it looks so fun to play with§.
Harry's eyes darted to the magical tape that was flitting around Painzz while the enchanted quill took notes, Obviously, the way the tape was flying about, measuring different parts of her sister emulated an insect or a bird, definitely something that would warrant a dragon's natural instinct to snap at and – hopefully – eat.
§Just a little longer§, Harry told the eldest of the four. §The tape should be just about finished measuring Painzz so that I can see exactly how big she is. And I'm mostly through my measurements of Potteth. As soon as we're done, we can go play§.
§Yes, Speaker§, Speketh replied but Harry noticed that her eyes never once left the tape as it moved about.
Turning back to his own task, Harry tapped Potteth on his side, reminding the fledgling that he was in the process of measuring how wide his wingspan was. Instantly, the wing that had half-furled snapped back out to full stretch.
Ordinarily, Charlie'd told him, this was a task that would involve no less than four dragon handlers. And their first task would have been to stun all of the fledglings before they'd even begun. And even then, one of the handlers would have been tasked with keeping a careful watch at the mouth of the cave to ensure that neither their mother – in this case Ramaranth – or any other dragon, came near while the others were getting the measurements as quickly as they could.
Today, though, Charlie had simply grinned, slapped Harry on the back and handed him the equipment, sending him off to do the job all by himself.
"You're the Speaker, aren't you? Not to mention a sort of surrogate uncle to those fledglings," Charlie'd said. "I'm sure you won't have any problems."
Snap!
Harry spun, expecting to see the magical tape cut in two by sharp dragon teeth. But that hadn't happened; the tape was still happily doing its job, in this case, measuring the length of Painzz's tail. His eyes darted to Spekith and, seeing the end of a feather dangling from her snout, he sighed and looked across the cave.
§Spekith§, Harry said, trying hard to keep his voice even, §I needed that quill§.
§I'm sorry, Speaker. It was too tempting and you'd said not to eat the flying worm-thing§.
The sound of Harreth's hissing laugh did not help matters.
§I guess that I can do the rest by hand§, Harry sighed, §but we won't have as much time now to go flying together§.
The light from the entrance to the cave disappearing combined with the sound of heavy footsteps turned Harry's head. But instead of Ramaranth, who he expected, it was a Ukrainian Ironbelly blocking the entrance.
§Grouleth§? Harry questioned after his eyes had adjusted enough to the dim light to let him recognise the first dragon that he'd met when he'd first arrived here. §Is something wrong? Did Ramaranth send you§?
§No, Speaker§, Grouleth rumbled in his deep voice. §I was sent to bring you to the Weyr Council§.
Harry blinked and cocked his head at the unfamiliar term. 'Weyr', he knew was the dragon's name for their group that lived here at the Sanctuary. But 'Council'? That didn't make sense at all. He'd never picked up on their being an official hierarchy amongst the dragons, let alone something like a … a government?
The fact that all four fledglings had stilled, their eyes appearing larger than normal as they stared between the Ironbelly and Harry told him that they, at least, knew what this Council was and that they knew that it was a big deal
§What Council, Grouleth§? Harry asked, deciding that gathering more information was required, and quickly at that.
§Come, Speaker, you will see§, Gouleth replied.
§Can it wait until I'm finished here§? Harry asked.
§No, Speaker§, Grouleth replied, moving his great head from side to side. §You may return here and complete your task after. The Council must come first§.
Harry's eyebrows all but disappeared under his fringe at hearing that. Here was the first time that his wishes hadn't been followed by any dragon. Whatever this was, it was huge. A tiny part of him considered stalling and letting Charlie or one of the other Handlers know what was going on but his curiosity was simply overpowering that feeling.
§Alright§, Harry said, snatching up the two pieces of tape – the one that he was using and the one still moving about Painzz – and the parchment and stuffing them into his bag. §Lead on, then§.
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10:40am
Friday, 28 July 1995
Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania
.
At Grouleth's urging, Harry found himself walking into one cave that seemed no different or special than any other. The only thing that might be considered special was the fact this particular cave was one of the very last ones in the valley and that it was the farthest cave from the human settlement at that. That was, of course, until he'd walked ten, twenty, thirty metres into the cave with still no end in sight.
Really, 'cave' was a misnomer. Tunnel would be more accurate.
The fact that not only Grouleth but also the four fledglings were following him didn't help either. Conjuring one of his balls of light and willing it to follow just above and behind him solved the problem of not being able to see where he was going.
It felt like ages but could really have only been no more than ten minutes of steady walking before the tunnel ahead started to become lighter. Unconsciously, Harry's steps quickened. That was before he stepped out of the tunnel. What he found stopped him dead.
Cave was too small a word. Cavern really wasn't much better. Amphitheatre in the middle of a mountain might be the closest that he could come up with.
And it was. A great big domed space that stretched up so high that Harry couldn't actually see the roof from where he was standing at the bottom. The walls, though, weren't perfectly smooth. Instead, there were dozens and dozens of ledges all around. And on each and every one rested a dragon.
Harry wasn't entirely sure exactly where the light was coming from. His best guess was some sort of strange crystal embedded haphazardly into the walls all around the chamber. Whatever it was, the soft golden glow that each produced provided more than enough light to see by.
A nudge in his back propelled him forward before he stumbled to a stop. The flap of wings beating down behind him accompanied by the gust of air that ruffled his clothes told him that Grouleth had taken to the air, quickly followed by the fledglings.
Eyes wide, Harry turned in a circle to take it all in.
Dragons of every size and species found at the Reserve peered down at him, their great eyes all fixed on him. Harry didn't need to count; every dragon in the Reserve was obviously present.
§Speaker, we welcome you§.
Harry turned to his left to find the largest Hungarian Horntail that he'd ever seen stepping forward from where he'd just stepped from one of the lowest ledges.
§Great One§, Harry said, giving a bow while ensuring that he also dropped his eyes.
This was one dragon that Harry had never encountered at the Sanctuaary and before this, he would have sworn that he'd met every dragon that lived here.
§May I enquire what your name is§? Harry continued.
§I am Memzath§, the dragon replied, lowering his head until the bottom of his snout all but rested on the ground and even then, the top of Harry's head was still nearly a metre below Memzath's eye.
§What is this place? Why am I here§? Harry asked
Memzath lifted his head, his neck curving up before his head twisted to look back down at the single human.
§This is the Weyr Council§, Memzath replied. §It is here that the good of the Weyr is determined§.
Harry blinked at the Horntail. This was completely foreign territory. While he'd known that the dragons were intelligent, with him being the only parselmouth at the Reserve, no one really knew much about the social structure of the dragons that lived here. Or in any of the Reserves around the world.
§And you are here, Speaker, because you do, in fact, Speak. You are Speaking to us but before you may Speak for us, we need to be certain that you will Speak the words that we want§, Memzath stated.
Once again, Harry wasn't sure exactly what to say. In the end, he decided that he could only try to assure not only Memzath but all the dragons here that he could be trusted.
§I have only ever wanted to be your friend§, he said. §Even from when I first met Ramaranth and the others at the TriWizard Tournament, I never wanted to hurt dragons or do anything that you would not like§.
A short bugle from high to his left had both Harry and Memzath turning to look.
§Speak, Ramaranth§, Memzath commanded.
§I vouch for the Speaker and the truth of his words§, she stated.
Four tiny bugles from around her told Harry that her fledglings were adding their support for him as well.
§Your voice is noted§, Memzath acknowledged. §And if it was not for the darkness that has been sensed, then that would be enough§.
§Darkness§? Harry asked, confused.
He had no idea what Memzath was referring to but it sounded suspiciously like the great Horntail was implying that he, Harry, was dark. Or bad. Evil, even.
§Darkness§, Memzath repeated. §There is a smell of darkness within you, Speaker§.
§Within me§? Harry squeaked through the sudden lump in his throat.
He certainly did not like the way that Memzath was currently looking at him.
§Perhaps 'within' is the wrong word§, Memzath said, his great head turning slightly and lowering so that he was now looking at Harry's face more closely. §Perhaps attached to you is the correct term§.
That, Harry decided, didn't sound any better. Attached to him?
§So, this darkness that you … smell? It's not a … a part of me§? Harry asked, trying to understand.
§It is and it is not, Speaker. Perhaps it can be dealt with§.
And before Harry could comprehend what was being said, Memzath's front paw lifted, his claw extended and he swiped straight at Harry's face.
Instantly, intense pain blossomed in Harry's head and he let out a piercing scream that reverberated around the cavern. His hand slapped wetly against his head, directly over where his lightning bolt scar was.
And then the pain intensified, ten, a hundred, a thousand-fold. Darkness closed in and the world around him vanished as he collapsed into unconsciousness.
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11:10am
Friday, 28 July 1995
Weyr Council Cavern, Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania
.
The bellows and roars that erupted all around the cavern would have deafened any human there. The fact that the body of the only human there had just shut down meant that he didn't hear any of it.
And then, in an instant, the protesting dragons stopped. But where one would expect complete silence, there was, instead an eerie, unearthly wail.
From the Speaker's forehead where he now lay unconscious on the hard stone, a wisp of vile poisonous green mist erupted. The mist twisted and tuned about itself, as though it was attempting to keep every part of it together. And from this mist came that strange cry.
Memzath's head shifted upwards in line with the mist, his eyes watching, his senses tasting. Yes. This was the source of the darkness that he had sensed from within the Speaker. Whatever this was, it was wrong, evil, a darkness that did not belong.
When Memzath judged that the mist had risen high enough, he let loose with a long, thin, blue-white flame. The intense heat enveloped the mist before it simply ceased to be, as all things touched by dragon flame were wont to do.
That was the cue for the great bellowing roars of the assembled dragons to begin once again, only this time, the dragons were rejoicing, trumpeting and bugling being liberally mixed from many in attendance.
Memzath allowed it to go on for some time before his deep trumpeting bugle brought the Weyr back under control.
§The darkness that had a hold of the Speaker is no more§, he announced, perhaps unnecessarily.
§The Speaker§? Dirath asked.
Before answering, Memzath lowered his head so that his snout was close to the Speaker's face. A puff of air, while nowhere near the intensity that it could be, was still hot enough to leave the Speaker's forehead glowing red. The blood and black gunk that had poured from the scarred wound dried instantly. Memzath's long tongue washed it clean and he tasted that the Speaker's magic was entirely his own.
§He lives and is whole§, Memzath declared.
§And how do you judge him, Memzath§? Ramaranth asked.
After taking one final sniff, taking one final sense of the Speaker's magic and self, the Weyr leader lifted his head and took in the dozens of dragons all eagerly awaiting his verdict.
§I judge the Speaker worthy§.
Once again, great trumpeting bugles echoed around the cavern, declaring the Weyr's agreement and celebration of the pronouncement.
Only after the dragons had settled did Tyriath, the eldest of all dragons at the Weyr slowly step down from his ledge and plod across the centre of the bowl.
§Tyriath§? Memzath asked, bowing his great head in respect.
§The Speaker has been declared worthy. I ask what we intend on telling him? How much of our great history? How much of Dragon Lore? What ancient secrets is he truly worthy of? Forget not, he is still a two-leg and one who is still young in years§, the ancient dragon stated.
There was a distinct rumbling around the chamber as dragon discussed with dragon these important questions. None, it seemed had given much thought to what having a Speaker with them meant beyond that of having a two-leg who they could talk to and who would listen to them and Speak for them.
§The Speaker has shown that he wants to learn§, Memzath stated slowly.
§There is much truth in your words, Memzath§¸Ramaranth said. §He has listened to us and told the other two-legs what we want and need. And they have begun changing their ways§.
§The Speaker flies with us§.
§He made them give us more food§.
§The ache in my hind foot has been healed§.
§The Speaker carries two-leg writings, a book he called it§, Damrath added. §He tells words from this and asks what is truth and what is dung. He remembers what we tell him and has promised to teach the two-legs§.
§How many moons will the Speaker remain in Weyr§? Tyriath asked.
§The Speaker will visit all Weyrs§ the tiny voice of Spekith volunteered.
§All Weyrs? That I do not believe§, Tyriath said, moving his head slowly from side to side. §All Weyrs that the two-legs have created, perhaps, but not all Weyrs that contain dragons§.
§What of the other Weyrs§? Memzath asked. §Should the Speaker not be told§?
Again, there was much rumbling debate within the cavern before Tyriath stamped one of his feet. While Norwegian Ridgebacks were not as large or as heavy as Horntails or even Ironbellies, Tyriath had the gravitas to instantly claim silence from all dragons.
§I propose that the Speaker be only told what he needs to know, when he needs to know it§.
Memzath, though, decided to add to the proposal.
§Our smallest brethren and near-cousins should remain Weyr secrets, even from the Speaker for now. The other Weyrs, those dragons who have established their own Weyrs apart from the two-legs, they may need the Speaker to Speak for them. That he may be told, as he needs§, he declared.
The rumbling of the dragons this time was punctuated by trumpets and bugles of some of the younger or more vocal of the dragons.
§And what of the Speaker now§? Ramaranth asked. §He is not able to move under his own power§.
Memzath lowered his head slightly in combined acknowledgement and to look at the unconscious two-leg before him.
§Ramaranth, we entrust the Speaker into your care. Return him to the other two-legs§, he said.
§Yes, Memzath§, she replied before spreading her wings and gliding down from her ledge to the floor of the cavern.
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4:05pm
Friday, 28 July 1995
Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania
.
"How long do you think he'll sleep?" an anxious Sirius asked, even as he hovered on one side of the bed that his godson was currently lying unconscious in.
"Your guess is as good as mine," Remus shrugged, his own eyes firmly fixed on the face of the sleeping teen. "The Healer said that he was fine, apart from the fact that his magic levels were all going haywire …"
"but if he rested for at least a day and didn't use his magic at all in that time, then he'd be fine," Sirius concluded. "I know that, Moony, I was here, too, remember?"
"Then stopping being a worry-wort," Remus near-snapped. "Our Cub'll be fine."
Sirius couldn't help but snort. "Cauldron. Kettle."
"Black," Remus finished, a touch of a wry grin on the corners of his lips. "I get it, Sirius, we only just got him back, we're both overly sensitive about losing him or something happening to him."
"But Harry won't appreciate our hovering," Sirius sighed, running a hand along the back of his neck. "That kid's had a hard life, you and I both know that. He's had to grow up way faster than he should have and he's missed out on an awful lot. And then, when he finally came back, all that Boy-Who-Lived nonsense combined with the fame that went with the TriWiz and his Marauder-level way of doing the Tasks …"
"Marauder-level?" Remus grinned, shaking his head. "I doubt any of us would have dared to make a mockery of the TriWiz like he did."
"I feel insulted," Sirius replied with a mock-hurt hand on his heat. "Maybe you would have competed properly but both James or I would have done our best to make a farce of the whole thing."
"No, you two would have made a mockery of the TriWiz while still trying to win," Remus countered. "Harry didn't."
"Mister Padfoot bows to Mister Moony and concedes the point," Sirius said after a moment's consideration.
"As you should," Remus nodded smugly before his eyes once more fell on Harry and his face fell. "And now he has to contend with that."
The eyes of both men latched on to the same spot: the once-was lightning bolt scar on Harry's forehead.
When he'd first been brought back – in the claws of a dragon no less – Harry'd been unconscious and most of his face was covered in dried blood and something else that no one could identify. Very quickly, though, he'd been cleaned up and then then they'd seen it.
The lightning bolt scar that had adorned Harry's face for most of his life now had a vicious, straight, vertical line straight through it that started two finger widths above the original scar and finished the same length below it.
And if that wasn't already more than enough, there was something else, something remarkable about it: it wasn't the normal colour that one would expect from a wound; not a fresh wound or even a wound that had been healed for any length of time. No. This wound, this Mark, even after being as magically healed as possible, was a vibrant bluish-purple and stood out like no other wound or scar that any one of them had ever seen before.
About the only good thing about this new scar was the fact that it did detract from the remains of the famous lightning bolt.
Alexander and Charlie, though, the instant that they'd seen it, had nearly fallen over backwards from where they'd been crouched over Harry lying on the dirt. Neither had been able to tear their eyes away from the Mark, much like Sirius and Remus had had their eyes constantly and continuously drawn to it in the hours that they'd been standing by Harry's bed since the Healer had left.
Both, though, couldn't stop remembering the awed whisper that had escaped Alexander when he finally did find his voice. And not one of them, not Harry's guardians, not the Healer and not even the dragon handlers themselves, knew exactly what it was going to mean for Harry in the short or the long term.
"The Mark of the Dragon."